Visions of Sleep
by ElegantGhost
Summary: Jim hasn't slept for days. When the ship is attacked and he gets a concussion, it's up to Bones to keep him alive and awake until they reach sickbay. Some Kirk/Spock friendship, but mostly Kirk/Bones friendship.
1. An Explosion

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Star Trek: 2009. This is all in good fun._

* * *

"Damn it, Jim!" McCoy barked as he followed Captain James T. Kirk down the corridor. "I told you an hour ago to get some rest!"

"No time," Jim answered curtly over his shoulder. He was scheduled to meet with Scotty in the engine room. The ship had been malfunctioning over the last two days. Until they figured out what was wrong and fixed it, there was no way he was going to sleep.

"You've been up for nearly three days," Bones continued, hot on his heels. "And by the way you're weaving, I estimate you have only hours until your brain shuts down to reboot itself."

"You make it sound like I'm some kind of operating system." He put out an arm to steady himself against the nearest wall. The lights flickered as he did so. Or maybe his eyes just closed for a second longer than normal. Either way, it was a bad sign.

"Don't make me sedate you-"

"Bones!" Jim snapped, exasperated and more exhausted than he'd ever been in his life. "I'll go to my quarters when I know the ship won't crash into New Vulcan while I'm unconscious."

He met Bones' gaze without blinking, feeling slightly guilty about the way it was filled with frustration. It looked as if the good doc could use some sleep himself.

Instead of withering under his hard stare, Bones seemed to square his shoulders.

Uh-oh.

"The first officer would never allow the ship to crash, Jim," he said slowly. The way he pronounced each word made Jim feel like an infant. Was that how Bones was treating him? He supposed it was rather childish to refuse to go to bed, but damn it all, he had the crew of the _Enterprise _counting on him. He wouldn't let them down when he'd already screwed up everything else in his life.

Bones was eying him with concern, as if he'd stopped talking in the middle of a sentence and Jim was too far gone to notice. Maybe he was.

Ignoring the words he hadn't heard, Jim turned on his heel and continued down the corridor. Before he'd met Captain Pike during a bar fight, he'd been nothing. Done nothing. Heard nothing. Saw nothing. He shut his eyes tightly for a split second, before blinking rapidly to clear his vision. Now wasn't the time to think of his past. He had too much responsibility to come undone at the seams over something that had already happened.

Turning the corner, he vaguely noticed a flash of blue behind him. Hmmm. So Bones hadn't left yet. At least he'd shut up. Sometimes he could be so-

Jim grunted as he collided with what felt like a wall. Hands wrapped around his upper arms to steady him, their grip bony and cold through his shirt. They held him up effortlessly, even as his legs gave out at the knees before he regained his balance.

Not a wall then. Spock.

"Captain," he greeted in his usual toneless manner. "In reviewing the ship's log, I calculated an illogical amount of time you have maintained your station without substantial refreshment. As I have recently meditated, I hereby suggest a temporary relief of your command-"

"Would both of you shove off?" Jim shook off Spock's grasp. He liked to think he did anyway. Past experience had taught him that Spock probably released him voluntarily. But who else was to know?

"He isn't cooperating," Bones spoke up behind him.

Jim shot him a look that promised retribution.

"Dr. McCoy is the chief medical officer aboard this ship," Spock stated, an eyebrow slightly raised. "The logical course of action would be to adhere to his medical opinion."

"The logical course of action," Jim answered, pointedly ignoring the way his words slurred, "would be for me to meet Scotty in the engine room to fix the ship. She's broken. We fix things that break."

Spock clasped his hands behind him. His eyes darted over Jim, as if noting his respiration rate, pupil dilation, and apparent lack of coordination. What was _with_ Vulcans and their insane intelligence anyway? How had it evolved? He made a mental note to ask Scotty to brief him while they went over the ship's systems.

Spock finally said, "Your obvious state of exhaustion suggests that you will ignore any recited protocol regarding chain of command."

"Damn straight," Jim growled as he made his way around Spock. He could feel the Vulcan's gaze drilling into his neck. Bones may have been talkative, but at least he wasn't stoically intimidating. Jim would never let anyone know it, but since he'd aggravated Spock on the bridge, he was slightly scared of him. Only slightly. And he liked to think of it more as respect than actual fear. A captain didn't fear individual crew members.

As their footsteps followed him down the hall, the lights flickered again.

"What the hell is going on here?" he muttered to himself. "Lights flickering, entire systems failing in the middle of their programs, doors refusing to open…"

Several passing Ensigns shot him hesitant smiles, but he was too deeply absorbed in his thoughts to return them. Didn't smiling engage an absurd amount of facial muscles anyway? He couldn't afford to waste energy.

"Incoming!" a voice distantly yelled. "_Stations!_"

Jim didn't have time to react before the ship rocked with the force of an explosion. He was thrown against the wall, his head cracking against the surface. His vision flared white. Or maybe that was the shower of sparks that rained from the ceiling. Shouts, screams, and the roar of a second explosion were nearly deafening.

The ship tilted, altering its natural gravity until Jim found himself laying on the wall as if it were the ground.

What the f-

A third explosion tossed him into the air and deposited him further down the corridor.

That was it. Now he was mad.

As Jim struggled to pull a breath into his lungs, he turned his head to see Bones hauling himself to his feet and running towards him. Spock was nowhere to be seen.

"Jim!" Bones yelled, falling to his knees beside him. His hands immediately began to roam over Jim's head, searching for unseen injuries. Jim wanted to tell him how much the side of his face hurt, but he couldn't draw in a breath to talk. He could only lay there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. This sucked.

"Don't try to speak," Bones ordered. "Just breathe." There were shouts for medical officers over his comlink and he quickly ordered his men to assist in various areas of necessity. That's what Jim was going with anyway. It was difficult to separate one word from the next. And the way Bones had begun to blur like a smeared painting was mildly disconcerting.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey." There was panic in Bones' voice. Interesting. He was usually so calm under pressure. There was little choice with everything a CMO had to deal with.

"Stay with me, okay, kid?" A hand lightly slapped his face while another pressed against the painful side. It made the throbbing worse and Jim's stomach lurched.

In seconds, Bones grabbed his shoulders and shifted him onto his side. His hips refused to follow, but somehow the man took care of that too. Jim was ridding himself of the contents of his stomach by the time he realized he was safely in what they'd deemed "the recovery position" at the academy.

He coughed and tried to put some distance between himself and the mess he'd made. Recovery his _ass_.

A moist cloth wiped his mouth. Bones was at his other side now, riffling through the small aid pack he must have grabbed from the wall. He produced a tricorder and swiftly began running it over Jim.

"Spock?" Jim sputtered over the cries of pain down the corridor. "Where-"

"He's on the bridge." Bones' expression intensified as he took in the readings on the tricorder. In the next instant, he'd set it down and was gently turning Jim onto his back. A moan escaped Jim's lips as the man did so. This was some serious vertigo. No drunken night of partying compared to it. And the _pain_.

He barely registered the _hiss _and sting of a hypo before the cool metal left his neck.

"S'at for?" he blearily asked.

Bones didn't bother answering before he administered another. There was a grim look in his eyes.

Jim didn't like it.

"Shoot, Bones, what's the matter?" he struggled to say. Something dripped into his eye and he winced. When he tried to bring his hand up to wipe it away, Bones grasped his hand hard enough to hurt.

"Just shut up, Jim," he said harshly. "You have a severe concussion, multiple internal injuries, four broken ribs, and a dislocated ankle. And I don't know if you noticed, but you're bleeding all over the floor."

"Right." Jim closed his eyes and nodded once. "The floor. Or th' wall."

Something grinded painfully against his sternum. He made a sound of protest.

"You're staying awake until we reach sickbay. I don't care if it means a hypo of adrenaline." A finger forced his left eye open. Jim found himself staring at the bulb of a penlight and struggled to turn his head. "Don't be an infant," Bones snapped. "Open your eyes."

"Wait." The corner of Jim's mouth came up in a half-hearted smirk. "Five minutes ago… you were ordering me to sleep. Now you want me… awake?" A giddy laugh bubbled up in his throat, but he kept it in check. His ribs were killing him.

"Five minutes ago, the ship was intact."

Jim gasped in pain as the _Enterprise _suddenly tilted and regained her natural gravity. He hit the floor hard, despite Bones' last second attempt to shield him from the impact. A wave agony had him clenching his jaw so hard that he felt a tooth chip. He was sucking in air through his teeth when he heard Bones unleash a string of curses. Among the obscenities, he made out the words _hobgoblin _and _pointy-eared bastard_.

It wasn't Spock's fault, of course. He'd only righted the ship. And by the subtle jolt around him, Jim guessed they had jumped to warp speed.

He finally managed to take a deep breath without too much pain. They were safe. For now.

The unsteady _beep _of a tricorder next to him preceded another curse from Bones and hands running over his chest and ribs. He jerked in pain when pressure was applied to his injured side.

"Sorry," Bones muttered. "The tricorder broke when it hit the floor. I'll be sending a personal request to the manufacturer to make them shock proof in the… damn it, Jim, what did I tell you about staying awake?"

Jim was beginning to feel strange. It was distressing. The pain had been replaced by a fluttery feeling in his chest and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. Why couldn't he feel pain anymore? He should have felt something attuned to-

"Don't you dare go into shock," Bones warned close to his ear. Something pinched his fingernail and he batted at it, trying to fight whatever was happening to him.

"Jim," a voice warned when he struggled to sit up. Hands pressed his shoulders to the ground again. "Jim, look at me. Stay still, you hear me? Don't move."

He ignored their warnings, _needing _to get up, to run. They didn't understand. The ship was in danger. He could feel his own life hanging precariously in the balance. Somehow he felt that if he could save the ship, then he could save his own life. What if he and the _Enterprise _were connected on a deeper level than anyone had come to realize? The thought was insane, but it was worth investigating.

Hands pinned his wrists to the floor, keeping him from moving. He tried to sit up regardless, but his ribs wouldn't allow it.

"Get me some help over here!" Bones yelled. "Damn it, Jim, calm down! I can't sedate you until I know the extent of your head injury."

Jim heard running footsteps. Everything was so blurry that he couldn't tell who they belonged to.

"What's wrong with him?" a female voice asked.

"He's going into shock," Bones answered. His knee must have moved to pin Jim's closest wrist, because one of his hands gently smoothed Jim's hair back in an attempt to soothe him. How strange. Bones wasn't the comforting type. Maybe he only wanted a closer look at the wound.

Never mind that. Jim shook his head rapidly. He had to get to the bridge.

"Get a stretcher over here now and send me some help to hold him down. He's panicking." As the footsteps faded, Jim picked up a softer tone when Bones spoke again. "Easy, Jim, it's all right. Everything is fine. We're gonna get you fixed up in sickbay. No one croaks on my time, you hear me, kid? Everything is going to be-"

Bones abruptly began choking, and Jim distantly realized why. A black haze had veiled his vision and it wasn't because he was fading. The corridor was filling with smoke. An electrical fire must have started when the circuits blew.

His own lungs began to burn from his place on the floor, the back of his throat feeling much too dry and scratchy.

"Scotty, turn on the damn sprinklers already!" Bones yelled into his comlink between coughs. He released Jim's wrists and got behind him to grab his shoulders.

The logical portion of Jim's brain screamed at him for being such a useless waste of space. If he was any kind of Captain, he'd be helping Bones with the wounded, not laying around like a liability. But there was another part of him that only cared to get to the control room and turn on the sprinklers himself. Scotty was clearly occupied elsewhere.

He settled for middle ground.

"Bones," he mumbled as he was dragged away from the hot smoke. "The switch for the sprinklers is in the control room. If you can just get to it-"

"Forget it," Bones snapped. He stopped pulling Jim along for a moment to re-inspect his injuries. "We can't go any further without me carrying you. I'm not leaving you here alone, so don't even ask. Just focus on breathing and staying lucid."

"Oh, the situations in which we find ourselves…" He sharply inhaled when Bones put pressure on the side of his face again. "What the _hell_?"

Bones coughed into his own shoulder. "It's nothing a dermal regenerator can't fix. You might have a scar, though."

_I've got bigger problems_, Jim meant to reply. But the words wouldn't come.


	2. Trapped

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Star Trek: 2009. This is all in good fun._

* * *

Jim felt himself mentally fading again. It was the strangest thing. One minute, everything made sense. Their situation sucked, but he understood it. The next minute, he began to feel restless and confused. Why in the name of Starfleet were they just sitting here? The crew needed help. The _Enterprise _needed fixing. To top it all off, Spock was commanding the bridge.

Anyone with any sense knew _that_ couldn't end well.

"You still with me, Jim?" The words echoed, as if asked in a cave. No part of him bothered to answer. He was too busy watching the lights dancing before his eyes.

"Where the hell is Chapel?" Bones muttered to himself. Then to Jim, "Listen to me, kid. We need to move. The damn sprinkler system must have failed."

An arm worked itself under Jim's back. If he'd been able to speak, Jim would have cursed the day he'd met Bones. But the only sound that escaped his lips was a strained yell of pain.

Breath was hot in his ear as Bones panted, "I know. You can thank me later." He worked his other arm under Jim's legs and grunted as he got to his feet. Jim hung limply in his arms, coherent thought beginning to return to him.

Oh, geez. Ankle. Ribs. No, head. That hurt the most.

Smoke burned the back of his throat and he weakly coughed. The pain had him trembling within seconds. Wrong. His ribs hurt the most. Definitely his ribs.

Bones was coughing above him and Jim realized they were on the move. Where were they going? He couldn't see a damn thing with all this smoke.

A voice of artificial intelligence calmly announced, "Fire doors lowering now. Please exit the corridor. Make your way to the nearest oxygen-supplied room. Fire doors lowering now..."

"Damn it all to hell!" Bones cursed. He altered their course.

After several jarring steps, Jim heard a door slide open. A cool breeze caressed his skin and then he was surrounded by fresh, breathable air. He didn't have much to be thankful for right now, but it was heavenly.

His moment of bliss was interrupted when lights blinded him, activated by the motion sensors. He raised his arms over his eyes, but he was too late to prevent the flare of pain that had him clutching his head.

Jim was gently lowered to the floor. It was cold and uncomfortable compared to Bones' arms.

_Whoa_, he thought, _I must have a concussion to be thinking of Bones like some kind of teddy bear_. Everyone under the care of Doctor McCoy knew he was a little rough around the edges. But as far as Jim was concerned, it made him a better CMO. No one dared defy Bones' orders. Except himself, of course.

Look where that had gotten him.

He could have been safely in his quarters at the time of the attack, instead of a name on the injured list.

Well. Nothing to be done about it now.

"Don't move," Bones said. His footsteps moved around the room, wherever they were.

Jim couldn't help but draw up his knees just a little. It felt instinctive to curl into a fetal position, though his broken ribs prevented too much movement. He tried to open his eyes, wanting to know where they were. It was painful, but then again, what wasn't at this point?

He saw the white floor. A table and chair legs. A wave of nausea rolled through him.

Then he heard splashing sounds and saw Bones' shoes walking his way.

"Where-" he tried to ask as Bones knelt beside him. "Where are we?"

"Break room. We'll be stuck here until the fire dies out. The oxygen to the corridor has been sealed off." Bones sounded even gruffer than normal after inhaling so much smoke. He pushed down Jim's knees and carefully arranged him so that he was laying on his back again. Jim sucked in his breath when Bones' hand brushed his sternum. It must have been four upper ribs that were broken.

"I don't know how to tell you this, Bones," he started, wincing in pain. "But you look like hell."

"Says the martyr on the floor."

Jim gave a strained smile at the note of humor in the good doctor's voice. He cracked open his eyes again to see Bones' soot-covered face leaning over him and holding a glass of water.

"See if you can sip this," he said, lifting Jim's head to rest on his knee. He brought the glass to Jim's lips and carefully tilted it.

When Jim had appreciated the cool air on his face, he'd been foolish. _This _was something worth appreciating. The water soothed his raw throat and washed away the soot in his mouth. It was pure relief.

And taken away too soon.

Jim sputtered in protest when Bones set the glass on the floor.

"Not too much, kid," he said curtly. "Don't need you vomiting again. I probably shouldn't have allowed you that much, but I wanted to alleviate your shock as much as possible." He wore an unreadable expression as he peered under the makeshift bandage on Jim's face.

"So what now?" Jim breathed. He felt too exhausted to talk any louder.

Bones' eyes flickered over him before grabbing his wrist to take his pulse. "The way that fire was going, I'd estimate we have only minutes until it dies out. Once that happens, it's only a matter of vacuuming the smoke into space and…"

He continued talking, but Jim stopped hearing the words. He only heard syllables. It was like an alien language, soothing and comforting in its own way. When he was a kid, there were times when he listened to French audio tapes on the lowest volume setting to help him sleep. He hid the tapes like most kids hid a stash of candy because… well, he would've found himself unable to explain it.

Now, listening to Bones drone on about emergency procedures – he already knew them for Pete's sake, he was the _Captain_ – he felt his eyes close of their own accord. Hands grasped his shoulders and the syllables became urgent, but everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. It was hardly disturbing. Jim was content to drift off, floating through time and space…

A hard slap to his face grounded him somewhat. It _had _distantly hurt. But then he was drifting again, feeling a marvelous warmth spreading to his fingers and toes. The only place the warmth didn't spread to was a spot on his neck. That spot stayed cold until a _hiss_ and a jolt of adrenaline jarred him awake.

He bolted upright with a yell, grabbing for Bones, for anything to hang onto. White hot pain seared his torso and head simultaneously.

"Ugh," he gasped, cradling his head. "What the hell?"

A hand clasped his shoulder to steady him. "Warned you about falling asleep, didn't I?"

"It's your own fault for reciting procedure," Jim muttered through gritted teeth. "How is that supposed to keep anyone awake?"

"I was reminiscing about the time Spock kicked your ass. Guess you checked out before then."

"I'd happily do it again."

"A little pain lets you know you're alive."

"And a truckload makes you wish you were dead." Jim slowly lowered himself back onto the floor. He tried to ignore the silence on Bones' end of the banter. The pain didn't really make him wish he was dead. Not with all his heart anyway.

"I'll get you some more water." Bones got up and made his way around the table. No fair. How was Jim supposed to pull his foot out of his mouth without reading Bones' expression? He struggled to come up with something. The throbbing in his head made it difficult.

"Hey, Bones, you got a mirror?"

"Unbelievable," the man answered in exasperation, filling the cup.

"What?"

"Even seriously injured, you have a sense of vanity." Bones rounded the table.

"I just want to see why my head is playing Beethoven's seventh symphony."

"It's not the third movement, is it?"

"Of course it is."

Bones knelt beside him again and let him keep his dignity by handing him the water. "In that case, I suppose I could give you a mild pain killer. But not until the effects of the adrenaline taper off. Your system is overloaded as it is."

Jim sipped the water before setting the cup on the floor. His mouth was dry, but holding his head up took too much effort. He rested it on the floor.

"Got a pillow?"

"Afraid not," Bones answered distractedly. He'd picked up the broken tricorder and was fiddling with it. "Even the silverware up here is made of solid steel and they couldn't manufacture a shockproof tricorder."

Jim allowed the man to frustrate himself in peace for several minutes. He focused on the signals his body was sending him, mixed though they were. Through the pain and the grogginess, there was something else. Something important.

"Uh, Bones?"

A grunt of acknowledgement.

"Need to pee."

Silence.

Jim cracked an eye open. Bones was staring at him suspiciously, as if part of him hoped Jim was pulling a fast one.

If only.

"Now, Bones."

"It's the adrenaline." Bones ran a hand over his face before looking around.

"I don't give a damn _why _I need to go. Can we focus on what's really important here?"

"I'm thinking!"

"Think faster. My body has bigger priorities than holding urine."

"Okay." Bones moved to help Jim into a sitting position.

"What are you doing?" Jim winced as Bones flung one of his arms over a shoulder.

"The only cup in the room is holding drinking water. You'll need to pee in the sink."

"One cup in the whole break room? Who's in charge of restocking cups?"

"To use your own words, can we focus on what's important? Try to haul yourself up." Bones lifted them into a standing position.

The room reeled. Oh, man. Bad idea.

Jim's stomach lurched again. He was only able to hold down its contents when he swallowed against the pain rising in his chest. Suddenly, keeping his dignity didn't seem so important. He'd rather continue breathing.

"Not gonna happen, is it, kid?" Bones lowered Jim to the ground. "The blood left your face in a hurry. Put your head down. Don't need you fainting on me." The corner of Bones' mouth came up in a half-hearted smile, but the concern in his eyes overshadowed any attempt to make light of things. He brushed back Jim's hair before looking around again.

"All right," he finally said, grabbing the cup and downing the last of the water. "We'll use the cup. With any luck, they're vacuuming the smoke into space right now and we'll be out of here soon anyway."

Jim gave a nod, but he couldn't care less about relieving himself at this point. It was the least of his problems.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"What's wrong?"

Bones never missed a thing.

"The adrenaline is wearing off," Jim answered, grimacing. "Pain is getting bad again."

"And I'm sure the lift didn't help. Well, here." He gave Jim the cup. "Do your thing and I'll give you the painkiller I promised earlier."

"Do I get marks for good aim?" he asked through gritted teeth. His head was throbbing even worse than before.

"You get to stay dry. Go on."

Great. This wasn't awkward at _all_. Jim cleared his throat and unzipped his pants like a man. He wasn't some fourteen-year-old at his first penile exam. And he certainly wasn't _shy_. Please. If whipping it out was a profession, he would've gone pro years ago.

Nevertheless, he stole a glance in Bones' direction beforehand and was relieved to see him messing with the broken tricorder again. Or pretending to. Either way, his abrupt fascination with it was appreciated.

Jim absolutely did _not _flush with embarrassment when he set the nearly full cup down and he absolutely did _not _feel safer when vulnerable parts of his anatomy were tucked away again. He was James T. Kirk, Captain of the _Enterprise_, and to feel any of these things… oh, the hell with it. He was glad it was over.

Bones was professional enough to not mention a thing when he returned from the sink empty-handed. Instead, he took Jim's vitals. Good ol' Bones.

Good ol' blurry Bones. Quite blurry, actually.

"Are you having trouble with your vision?" Bones asked, taking something from his pocket. Damn, it was that blasted penlight again. What doctor with access to a tricorder even carried one of those things anymore?

"Jim, answer me."

Uh-oh. Bones' voice was echoing again. That couldn't be good. And he was getting smaller too, as if Jim was falling down a rabbit hole. Falling and falling and falling…

He was very tired. Surely Bones wouldn't mind if he let his eyes slip closed for just a moment or two? Somewhere in his mind, he knew the man would, but that knowledge no longer seemed noteworthy. The adrenaline had worn off and he was crashing. An image of a cartoon plane going down in flames flashed through his mind, making him smile weakly. Once that plane hit the ground, there was nowhere else to fall.

Except that there was.

The rabbit hole didn't seem to end. Bones was still at the top and getting smaller by the second, but he wasn't disappearing. On and on the hole went, until it was no longer a rabbit hole, but a great black hole. It stretched into infinity. Suddenly, Jim didn't want to sleep anymore. He wanted to stop falling and _now_. He wanted to wake up.

He threw out his arms in desperation, reaching for something to grab. There had to be something to stop him from falling any further. Some kind of-

There. One of his hands hit a wall and his fingers clenched into a fist.

He stopped falling.

The voice stopped echoing. As Jim came back to himself, he realized that he'd grabbed Bones' shirt in a death grip and that Bones' arms were wrapped around him. Real, solid arms, keeping him from falling any further into oblivion. Jim's chest heaved with every breath and his forehead was damp with perspiration.

"Easy, easy," Bones was whispering. He seemed to be speaking to himself. "Your body temperature is rising, but as long as we get you to sickbay soon, you'll be fine." He rocked back on his heels and then forward, holding Jim as if the strength of their friendship could heal Jim's wounds. "Just breathe and everything will be fine. In, and out. Breathe."

Jim breathed.


	3. Rescued

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Star Trek: 2009. This is all in good fun._

* * *

He breathed in. _Ouch_. And out. _Son of a-_

"You back yet, kid?" Bones snapped his fingers in front of Jim's eyes and looked relieved when they blinked in response.

"Never went anywhere," Jim mumbled.

Bones scoffed. "The hell you didn't. I set your dislocated ankle, you ass. You were out cold."

Oh, yeah. Now that Bones mentioned it, his ankle did feel a little better. He tried to raise his head to take a look, but it was like trying to raise a bowling ball. He was much too comfortable resting his head in the crook of Bones' elbow anyway.

"How long was I out?"

Bones shrugged casually, but Jim could feel his heart still pounding. "Not long. A few minutes at the most." The stubborn bastard would never let on. It must have been all those years of medical training that had him hiding behind a façade of indifference.

Just then, a familiar voice came over Jim's comlink. "Captain? What is your location?"

Spock. About time.

Bones took Jim's comlink from his waistband and flipped it open. "We're in the break room," he answered. "Deck four, sector twelve. The Captain is in need of immediate medical attention."

"Who attacked us?" Jim croaked. "How many injured?"

Bones ignored him and listened to Spock's response. The half-Vulcan's voice sounded small and confined.

"Be advised that all systems, with the exception of oxygen-providing vents, have been compromised in your sector. All engineers are diligently working to provide a solution." There was a pause. "May I ascertain the severity of the Captain's injuries?"

Bones took a deep breath and then asked in a dangerously low tone. "What the hell do you mean, 'compromised' systems? Are you telling me the doors won't open?"

"Basic electrical systems have been malfunctioning for the past ninety-two hours and twenty-seven minutes, doctor-"

"My God, man!" Bones exploded. He listed off Jim's injuries and then continued, "We need medical and we need it NOW, do you hear me, you hobgoblin? I don't need to remind you of the fragility of the human body..."

"Your emotional response is understandable, doctor, but incapable of rendering a solution to an engineering dilemma. If the Captain's condition is declining, we will utilize the vents to transport medical supplies to your location."

Jim heard a _crack_ as Bones' grip on the comlink tightened. The man really needed to watch his blood pressure. Work-related stress was a major cause of heart problems among the elderly.

"Transport what you can," Bones ordered. "You can start with a tricorder, sterile water, a dermal regenerator, spray bandages, and an advanced field kit. Unless you can transport the entire operating room down here." He flipped the comlink closed without waiting for a response. "Why is it always us, Jim?"

Jim attempted to shrug as Bones re-secured the comlink to his waistband. He didn't have the strength to answer, but he figured Bones wasn't fishing for a response anyway. Questions like that were directed at the universe. And one was never naive enough to expect an answer.

"How 'bout… that painkiller you promised?" he managed to ask. He never thought he'd see the day where he'd _request _a hypo, but here it was. Staring him in the face.

Bones moved to gently lower him to the floor. Sharp pains in his chest protested the shift. "Damn, kid, if an advanced med kit is on its way, I can give you more than a mild pain killer."

"I'd rather not wait," Jim breathed through his teeth. "You know I'm allergic to anything stronger than aspirin anyway."

"You sure?" Bones knelt by the basic kit and retrieved a hypo. It was clear he hated to see him in so much pain, but delivering mild relief now would prevent any permanent relief later. Jim tried to halt the inner battle his friend was waging.

"Just do it already. Waiting. Waiting eagerly." Truth be told, he was five seconds away from breaking down in a fit of not-so-manly tears. But there some things you just didn't say. No matter how badly you wanted to.

He felt a vein protrude on his forehead as his control began to waver. Bones knelt beside him and administered the hypo with a wince of his own. Jim barely felt the sting.

Oh, thank the _stars_.

The waters of agony began to recede and the dam held firm. Jim had been in plenty of bar fights, but he never thought of himself as particularly cut out for torture. There was a difference between taking a few punches when you were half-smashed and having your pain sensors overloaded while time trudged on.

He felt Bones watching him carefully for any adverse reaction. The man could take it easy. The only thing Jim felt was _better_. So much better. He smiled.

"Good stuff?" Bones prompted.

Jim nodded. The painkiller wasn't a twelve-year-old scotch, but it would do.

Bones rolled his eyes. "You've earned it. I'm going to pry off the vent grate so we can receive supplies when the officers on the bridge get their asses in gear." He stopped talking long enough to give Jim a pointed look. "Do _not _fall asleep. I don't want to hypo you with more adrenaline when the supplies arrive, but damn it all, I will."

Jim frowned at the threat as Bones rose and walked away. Killjoy. The man needed to loosen up a little. A little sleep never hurt anyone.

He yawned. _Ouch_. That kind of hurt the side of his face.

"Heard that," Bones said from his place across the room. Jim heard the sound of a grate being pried from the wall. "Just keep your eyes open."

Easier said than done.

There was a clatter as the grate fell to the floor, and that helped. It also brought his headache back.

"Could you be any louder?" he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Perfect." Bones made his way back to Jim's side a moment later. "Listen. The vent is small. They're feeding the supplies through one at a time. Lucky for your looks, the first item they gave us is the dermal regenerator. Should stop your external blood loss and ease the shock."

Shock? What shock? Things were peachy keen as far as Jim was concerned. Sure, his heart was still fluttering and he felt a little _off_, but he'd take what he could get. Compared to what he'd felt like before, this was nothing.

Bones peeled back the bandage on his face and silently got to work. Jim would have engaged him in conversation, but even if he did have the energy, this was his face they were talking about. Hardly time for distraction. So he kept quiet.

Bones' fingertips brushed his forehead every now and then. From what Jim remembered, dermal regenerators could burn, but this practically tickled.

His eyes slipped closed.

"Healing your abrasion doesn't heal your concussion, kid," Bones said. "You still can't sleep until I scan your head."

Wanna bet?

Bones gave a frustrated sigh. He was probably tired of keeping Jim awake. That was just too damn bad. Not a mission, nor a direct order could keep Jim at the same level of consciousness a minute longer. He slipped just below the surface, aware of everything around him, but unable to respond to any of it. And that was just fine with him. He had Bones watching out for him. They had medical supplies. There was no reason to bring his consciousness into this.

Sometime later, he heard the steady beeping of a functional tricorder.

"Alpha waves are in full swing. Theta waves are increasing," Bones put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Your scan doesn't look too bad, but I can't let you sleep longer than twenty minutes. At least until you heal a little more."

Fine. Two minutes, twenty minutes. Whatever. Just keep it down.

Jim was aware of very little after Bones' finally stopped bugging him.

He heard the man's occasional grumbling about how inadequate the delivered supplies would be in treating his wounds. He felt the cold blades of scissors cutting his new Starfleet Captain shirt off. Great. Budget committee would just _love _that. Finally, he felt cautious hands and sharp pains as his ribs were taped into place.

_We done playing doctor? _Jim wanted to ask. _I have a headache. _

It was the perfect double-meaning wisecrack and he was at a loss to deliver it. Ah, life.

* * *

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," Jim heard through a haze. It felt like some time had passed. "Come on kid, open your eyes." Pause. "He's still a little out of it."

"It would seem," Spock answered passively.

Wait. Spock?

Jim tossed his head one way, then the other, hoping it would rouse him. Hands gently steadied the movement, one on either side of his neck.

"Easy, now," Bones said. "Don't force it. We still need to get you into surgery."

Surgery? But where-

Jim's eyes snapped open to see Bones and Spock kneeling on either side of him. They were still in the break room. Footsteps surrounded them and he realized the medical team must have arrived. His hands came up to grasp Bones' wrists where they rested against his collar bone. He was having trouble catching his breath, but his voice refused to work.

"What's wrong?" Bones asked, recognizing the panic in his eyes. His left hand shifted to take Jim's pulse. "Damn it, he's crashing." Then over his shoulder. "Get the stretcher over here, now!"

Medical crew members dressed in white hurried over, the hovering stretcher between them. They moved to his side as Bones stood. Jim braced himself for the pain of being lifted onto the damn thing. At this point, he couldn't care less about _that_, just so long as he could breathe.

"Hang on, Jim."

A brilliant flash of searing pain was all he knew as he was lifted onto the stretcher.

"Bones," he found his voice through gritted teeth. "Do something."

The pain in his chest was unbearable. Whatever the hell was happening, he didn't want to be awake for it. He couldn't keep the desperation from his eyes as his back suddenly spasmed, wrenching a yell of agony from him. How much more could he take? It felt like a thousand needles were working their way to his core.

Bones gripped his hand, and Jim became aware that they were moving swiftly down the corridor. The walls of the _Enterprise _blurred as they rounded a corner. A gentle breeze on his face was his only relief.

Jim tried to focus on something, _anything _besides the pain radiating through his heart. He'd never been so conscious of every heartbeat. Two stabs of pain were prevalent with every propellant of blood.

If his heartbeat ceased, the pain would too…

He cracked an exhausted smile. The grip on his hand tightened in response.

"You still with me, kid? Just a couple more turns and we'll be there. A couple more. Stay with me. If it's a bright light that has you smiling, you stay the hell away from it."

Another voice spoke in a brisk, business-like tone not far ahead of them. "Commander Spock to medical: we are nearing the doors with the Captain in tow. Have the team prepare to receive." Anyone else might have berated the half-Vulcan for sounding so detached, but Jim detected undertones of urgency.

_I must look as bad as I feel_, he thought blearily.

The sickbay door slid open to let them through. Everything was a haze of blinding white lights and sterile uniforms and gleaming surgical tools. Disorienting didn't begin to describe it. Everyone moved with determined efficiency, tasks already assigned prior to his emergency arrival.

Jim was vaguely aware of someone cutting his remaining clothes away. But it didn't matter. He already felt vulnerable and exposed. The pain had chipped at his outer strength until only _he _remained. The walls of professional leadership that surrounded him on the bridge were long gone. As he was transferred from the stretcher to a cold steel table with the lights on his naked form, Jim only felt a strange sort of finality. Peace.

Until Bones ruined it.

Between more vital orders, he snapped, "And get a damn sheet over him, before he sweats and shivers himself into severe shock again. Do I have to do everything myself? Nurse Chapel, push fluids and get him on a monitor…"

A sheet floated down and settled at Jim's waist. There were numerous scanners running over his chest and hyposprays being administered… but what caught his attention in a lull of pain was the hand on his arm. The fingers were rigid and hot, emitting a ripple of comfort as surely as if they'd dipped into still waters.

Spock.

Jim's brow wrinkled in surprise. He turned his head, searching for his first officer through waves of safety and reassurance. He could only make out a blurred uniform of blue. The soothing feelings of comfort were almost enough to fight the next surge of pain.

Monitors blared in the background, alerting the medical team to his abrupt decline.

"He won't last long if we don't stop the internal bleeding. Get the surgical team in here!" Bones was already dressed in a gown and gloves when he stepped up to Jim's side. Someone wheeled a tray of surgical tools to the table.

"If you don't need to be here, get out! Spock, I could use a little help."

"How may I be of assistance, doctor?"

Bones secured his surgical mask. "I can't anesthetize him without compromising his nervous system. Put him out."

"The lapse of consciousness will only be temporary."

"Temporary is better than nothing. Put him out."

Jim was too far gone to notice when everything faded.


	4. Fever

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Star Trek: 2009. This is all in good fun._

* * *

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Jesus, what the hell was that?

_Beep._

It broke through the darkness as Jim neared consciousness. The sound echoed, almost as if there were two beeps instead of one. Like a heartbeat.

_Beep_.

For the love of-

"Jim," said a soft voice. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

No can do.

Maybe later.

"Jim."

He felt hands on his face, an unwelcome reminder that he _had _a face. Had a body. And was laying on a bed. If he could have, Jim would've sighed.

Instead, he forced his eyes to crack open. No use fighting it.

At first, he only saw blurry lights and the ceiling of sickbay. But Bones leaned into his line of sight, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

_It's too bright, _Jim wanted to tell him. _Turn the lights down._

"Jim, can you hear me?" Bones asked. He gently lifted each eyelid and a bright light darted across Jim's vision. Not the penlight again. Jim made a mental note to break that thing in half when he was better. The madness needed to stop.

"Hmmm," he managed to breathe. He tried to turn his head, but his neck remained still. Too tired.

Bones raised an eyebrow at the response. "Can you tell me where you are?"

Sickbay. Come on, now.

There must have been something in his eyes that made it clear the answer was obvious, because Bones didn't wait long for a response.

"We were finally able to give you some anesthesia stronger than a Vulcan nerve pinch. Might take a while for it to wear off completely… It was a close one, kid, but we managed to stop the internal bleeding. Now the only battle we're fighting is the fever. You have one heck of an immune system when you least need it. Explains your usual hyperallergenic response though." He paused, as if worried he was saying too much, too soon.

Jim blinked heavily. That was a lot of information to process. It was so hard to keep his eyes open.

"Try to get some rest," Bones finally said. He put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "I'll alert Spock of your progress as we try a fever reducer. Damn hobgoblin's been comlinking me for an update every half hour…"

Bones continued talking, but Jim stopped making sense of it. He was too warm and comfortable to stay awake anymore. Maybe when he woke up, they could talk. There were a couple things he needed to say.

* * *

An oven. Jim was inside an oven and growing warmer by the second. Something was pressing down on him, pressing the moisture from his body. Beads of sweat rolled down his face and chest.

He had to turn down the oven.

He moved his legs restlessly and threw back whatever was on top of him. When the weight was gone, he could breathe a little easier, but the relief he'd expected never came. It was still much too hot.

"Bones?" he mumbled, licking his cracked lips. He was parched. Trying to clear his throat was painful. "Bones, you there?"

Jim opened his eyes as much as they would allow. What he saw was terrifying.

He was in sickbay, but wasn't the sickbay as he knew it. The room was much too large. There were no walls or ceiling, just a darkness on all sides that seemed to stretch into eternity.

Jim suddenly felt very small and vulnerable. Where were all the nurses? Where was Bones? The monitors, bed curtain, and other medical equipment were also nowhere to be seen.

"Bones?" he called out again. His survival instincts were kicking in. They were telling him to run.

Throwing his feet over the side of the bed, Jim braced himself. He lowered his bare feet to the floor. The muscles in his legs protested the movement. They only just managed to hold his weight as he rose. He felt about as steady as a newborn colt, but it would have to do.

The hospital gown he wore was soaked through with sweat, but it did little to cool him. Thank God one of the first things he'd done as Captain was to do away with those backless gowns in favor of something dignified. The gown he wore only had ties on the sides, but at least it came down past his knees and covered his backside. He could run in it.

Against his will, Jim's body began to tremble with the effort of standing. If he was going to find a way out of here, he needed to do it before he was too weak.

But which way?

He gazed around uncertainly, turning this way and that. He didn't feel coherent enough to make an intelligent decision. It was frustrating. Maybe if someone turned down the _damn _oven, he could think.

Jim wiped his forehead and tried to focus. If this was the sickbay he remembered, the doors would be off to his left. That sounded about right.

Stumbling in that direction, he tried to stay alert for any signs of danger. It was a natural reaction whenever he woke up somewhere unfamiliar. Plenty of the women he'd slept with over the years had turned out to be married or otherwise claimed by men with not-so-friendly demeanors. Many a morning had found him waking to the sound of a front door slamming and then sneaking out of the bedroom undetected.

Which got complicated after he'd left earth. Laundry and trash shoots, bilges, pipe lines…

_Focus, idiot, _he scolded himself in a mental voice that sounded suspiciously like Bones.

Jim crept through the darkness, keeping an eye out for a door. There didn't seem to be one. The room just grew longer and longer… it felt like he'd been walking for ages when he finally spotted a door's outline.

Freedom.

He tip-toed toward it, praying it would open automatically. It wasn't a particularly good time to bring Klingon codes into this. The brain capacity wasn't with him today.

The door slid open as he neared. Jim breathed a sigh of relief.

Perhaps too soon.

The corridor looked dim and dangerous. It slightly resembled those on the _Enterprise_, but not enough to provide any feeling of comfort. The lights flickered and the walls were lined with cracks.

"Bones?" Jim called. It wasn't the brightest thing he could've done, but he couldn't help himself. He was scared. And suddenly too cold. The temperature reminded him of his time of Delta Vega. If the atmosphere had allowed it, he probably would have seen his breath with every exhale.

He moved closer to the wall in an attempt to stay warm as he moved down the corridor. He tried to come up with a plan to discover where he was and what had happened… nothing came to him but a wave of exhaustion. Leave it to his body to give out when he most needed it.

Footsteps.

Jim pressed himself against the wall. He waited for the footsteps to round the corner.

They never did. Instead, they drew close and continued on their path. He felt his eyes widen as he observed… something of a shadow. It was human in shape, but more like _disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence_. Where had he heard that phrase before?

Not important.

What was important was getting out of here, wherever _here _was. His eyes darted around, desperately looking for a weapon or a lead. What did he expect, a map on the wall? He had to keep moving.

He rounded the corner without looking and almost ran directly into two shadows. Damn it. They stumbled back in alarm. Before they could regain their footing, Jim shoved past them and ran down the corridor. He turned left, then right, unaware of where he was going or if the shadows were chasing him.

The floor was painfully icy against his bare feet, but a surge of adrenaline pushed the feeling to the back of his mind.

_Faster, faster._

The blackened walls blurred as he picked up speed. His heart felt as if it might burst from his chest, but the increase in heart rate helped him to think. Transport was what he needed. A pod, or maybe a pad. If he could find a comlink, he could hone in on the _Enterprise_'s signal and get Uhura on the line. Any spare comlinks should be in the engine room. If there was any kind of order on this ship.

Jim ignored the possibility of using a transporter room. Too many variables. And he could inadvertently trap himself to boot.

He headed directly for a ladder against the wall. A quick look down confirmed that it bypassed the lower floors. Directly to the source.

_Tally-ho_, he felt like shouting as he grabbed the sides and allowed himself to slide down. Controlling the fall wasn't easy, but he managed. Even kept most of his dignity. Though he fell too fast to notice if any more shadows caught a glimpse of him. He hoped not.

"Ah," he breathed when his feet touched the floor. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that he was alone. Good.

Comlinks, comlinks… he carefully stepped over engine room wires and pipes, cursing the hospital gown around his knees. How did women manage things like steps in a skirt anyway? They had his newfound respect.

Wandering deeper into the engine room, Jim began to feel desperate. His strength was rapidly depleting and he needed to find a comlink before he collapsed. He began opening random drawers and cupboards, tossing beautifully organized equipment aside like unwanted cooking spices. Not there. No. Nothing useful. A bottle of whiskey – what the hell? No. _Damn it_.

Just as Jim was beginning to see double, he recognized something that looked like an older version of the comlinks he was used to. He stumbled over to it and turned it over in his hands. Flipping it open revealed a variety of frequencies and it didn't take him long to tune it to the _Enterprise_. At least… that's where he hoped he'd tuned it. Comlinks could be tricky.

Only one way to know for sure.

Jim's legs chose that moment to give out and he slid helplessly to the floor. Ah, well. Still had the comlink, didn't he? Clutching it in his hand like a trophy, Jim took a deep breath and pushed the transmit button. Hopefully he had the energy to speak.

"Captain Kirk to _Enterprise_," he started weakly. "Are you picking up my signal?"

"We read you, Captain," the voice of Uhura came over the transmitter. Jim could have kissed her if she'd been beside him. His eyes burned with relief. Great. The fever was giving him the emotional control of a five-year-old.

"Captain, what is your location?" she asked. When he didn't answer right away, she spoke again. "Jim-"

"Goddamn it, Jim! Where the hell are you?" Bones cut her off. He sounded pissed enough to make the comlink vibrate. "Get your ass back to sickbay! You're in no condition to be working!"

Working? Jim stared at the comlink dumbly before answering, "That's why I'm contacting the ship, Bones. To get back to sickbay. I'd even let you hypo me if it would make you feel better. Just help me."

He stopped talking long enough to shift positions. He needed to lay down.

There, that was better. The engine room floor was cold enough to finally douse the fire crawling over his skin.

"What are you talking about, Jim?" Bones sounded confused. "Are you telling me you're no longer onboard?"

_Geez._ Sometimes Bones could be slow on the uptake. Why was _he_ transmitting anyway? Where was Spock, Sulu, or anyone else who had a clue about his abduction?

Jim yawned. He was very tired. The adrenaline had left him feeling even more drained than before. It was a roller coaster ride that was quickly nearing its end. _Please watch your step when exiting the ride, and have a pleasant day._

"That's what I'm saying, Bones. I'm not on the _Enterprise_. Not unless it transformed into a Freddy Kruger nightmare while I was napping. Get me out of here, would you?"

There was a long pause and then Bones replied, "We have your location. But don't worry, uh… you aren't as far from the ship as you think. Just stay where you are and we'll get to you."

Damn right he was staying where he was. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't move another inch. He nodded in response before realizing what a stupid move it was.

"Yeah," he breathed quietly. "I'll be here."

"Try to stay awake, all right, kid? I worked hard to patch you up. Would be a shame for all that work to have been for nothing."

"You know me," Jim murmured. "I try not to waste your time."

His grip on the comlink loosened. It slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

As he fell into the depths of unconsciousness before it stilled, he wasn't aware of the voice calling out for him. He wasn't aware of the underlying note of panic in its tone. And he certainly wasn't aware of the bridge officers' shocked expressions when Bones unleashed a string of curses and sprinted to the transporter room.


	5. Healing

There was a cool hand on the back of Jim's neck. The floor beneath him was also blissfully cool, but it held none of the comfort he needed. The hand lightly squeezed, reassuring him. It moved to his back, gently rubbing circles while a voice spoke close to his ear. He couldn't make out the words.

The ground vibrated with what could only be the footsteps of half a dozen crew members. The voice moved from his ear to bark orders at them.

Jim grimaced. It had to be Bones. What was he saying? Everything was garbled. Jim was content to drift between worlds, and Bones was yelling-

Strong arms worked their way under his form and lifted him. He flailed when the ground fell away, arms reaching. His hands found a shirt and clung to it. When he opened his eyes to see what was happening, light blinded him and he buried him head into the crook of Bones' shoulder as if he were a child. If you can't see them, they can't see you. Wasn't that the rule?

Jim felt a breeze on his legs as they spun around and began moving. Bones continued to speak above him. Coherent thought must have been returning, because he understood most of what the man was saying.

" You're burning up… told the damn nurse to keep an eye… need a fresh gown and a fever reducer… sick of hypos by now, but it's for your own good, kid."

The world spun as they took another sharp turn. There was the familiar sound of the transporter doors opening and closing, the whirring that accompanied their journey, and then a hiss and the bustling of sick bay.

"Ensign, get the hell over here!" Bones snapped. "Where's Chapel anyway?"

A bed rose up under Jim, but the sheets felt like they'd been refrigerated. He jerked, lashing out with his leg. Someone grabbed his ankle and pinned it to the bed. He tried to sit up to see who, but his ribs hurt something fierce. He fell back to the bed with a groan. A hand brushed his forehead.

"Bones-" he rasped. It felt like he'd swallowed a sheet of sandpaper.

"Quiet, Jim. Try not to move." The annoyance in Bones' tone was laced with concern.

The whirring of a tricorder near Jim's ear made him instinctively jerk back. Everything was happening too fast.

Someone tugged at the ties on his gown and pulled it away, leaving him naked. Again. Why the hell didn't someone just take photos and put them on the monitor? He turned toward Bones and tried to curl into a ball, but his shivering body would only allow so much movement. His knees wouldn't reach his chest. Among the droning voices around him, there was the sound of a privacy curtain being yanked around the bed.

"Nurse Chapel. Towel." The order was terse. Jim could imagine Bones using the same abrupt tone in surgery. _Laser. Regenerator. Hypo._

A towel – a _heated _towel, by God – gently dried his skin, being especially careful over his broken ribs. The grumbling that accompanied such affection would have made Jim smile if he'd had the strength.

"I'm a doctor, not a damn babysitter. Can't keep an eye on you all the time." Hands cautiously arranged him so that he was on his back once more. Jim could practically feel Bones eying his expression for any signs of discomfort.

Honestly, though? He could barely stay awake. Pain was worlds away.

Bones finished toweling him off with a firm wipe of his hairline. If this had been an everyday situation, Jim would have cracked a joke about Bones' backwards way of doing things.

_Come on, Bones, _he would have said with a wink, _Everyone knows you _start _with the head and work your way down. _

The privacy curtain was yanked back and then forward with a harsh metal-on-metal scrape. Footsteps approached the bed. "The fresh gown, doctor. I also retrieved the fever reducer, pain killer, and sedative you ordered."

Sedative? That was just mean. He wasn't hurting anybody.

"Good," Bones gruffly answered. "At least someone knows what they're doing around here. Let's start with the gown. I'll sit up him up."

Hands grabbed his shoulders, and before Jim knew it, his head was lolling forward.

"Remind me… not to pick a fight with you," he slurred. A drop of drool escaped his mouth, trailing down his chest. How very dignified.

"You back with us, kid?"

The gown was pulled over his head and Jim couldn't help but notice that it resembled an oversized bib. Bones guided his head to the pillow before swiftly sliding an arm under his knees and lifting his lower half. Chapel must have straightened out the gown underneath him in a hurry, because they were securing the side ties with practiced efficiency before Jim could even muster a proper response.

"Warm," he mumbled.

"I'm not surprised," was the dry response. "A fever accompanied by delirium would throw off your body's ability to regulate temperature. First you're hot, then cold. Swinging back and forth like a damn pendulum."

Yeah. A pendulum. Use whatever simile you want. Just make it stop.

"Nurse. Hypo."

Wait a second. "No sedative, Bones," he slurred, trying to move away. His head hurt when he turned it, the flare of pain causing him to sharply inhale. Damn. He was having one hell of a day. Everything was too bright and cold and painful and-

"Keep still." Hands firmly cradled his head and brought it back to its original position. Jim felt the edge of the bandage near his eye being lifted and clenched his jaw in anticipation of more pain.

None came.

He breathed a sigh of relief just before a hypo pressed against his neck and compressed.

_Ouch._

"It's just a fever reducer, kid."

"Can someone-" Jim swallowed a yawn. "Can someone turn down the lights? I'd like to open my eyes without burning my retinas."

Bones grunted. "Section A lights, 50%." He checked Jim's pupils for the proper reaction, lifting the lids one at a time. Jim was only too happy to allow them to fall shut when he was done. "For someone who was delirious only minutes ago, you seem to be quickly regaining your lucidity."

"You flatter me."

Jim cracked his eyes just in time to see Bones grimly administer another hypo.

"Bones!"

"That was the pain killer."

"You might have at least _asked_ if I'm in pain first." The more control Jim lost, the crankier he felt. Being completely at the mercy of his CMO and best friend does not a happy Captain make. Not that he didn't trust Bones, but being helpless just felt so… _helpless_.

"I can read the pain lines all over your face, kid. Or have you forgotten that I do this for a living?"

"What, stab people when they least expect it?"

"This last hypo is a sedative so you don't venture off again." Bones ignored his temperament and readied the third hypo by double-checking the contents. Probably didn't want to see Jim fight off another anaphylactic attack, no matter how difficult he was being. "By the time you wake up, the fever should be gone and so should your headache."

"Uh, let's not rush into this, Bones." Jim looked around for backup, but the only person nearby was nurse Chapel. No doubt she'd side with Bones. "Listen, I'm feeling much better. No hallucinations, no blurry vision. Have you ever heard me sound so coherent?"

"Don't be an infant," Bones said, but it was with less enthusiasm than usual. He sounded tired. He'd probably been caring for other injured crew members all night.

Jim tried to move his head away again. He didn't want to be sedated. Why was that so difficult to understand?

"What's the extent of damage to the ship? Who attacked us?"

Bones aimed for his neck with the hypo. "All of that will be waiting for you when you wake up."

"No-" In a move of desperation, Jim scooted back too far. His ribs flared even before his momentum carried him off the bed. There was a _crack _as his head hit the floor and a distant curse from Bones. All Jim could see were hurried feet walking around the bed.

"You idiot."

Uh-oh. Bones sounded _pissed_.

"This is _exactly _why you need a sedative. Can't go two seconds without pulling some stunt that makes your injuries worse."

Jim would've pointed out that he hadn't meant to fall off the bed, if only he could pull in a breath. He clenched his eyes shut, pathetically gasping for air.

Bones knelt and ran a tricorder over his prone form. Though he didn't seem satisfied with the readings, they weren't enough to stop him from working two arms under Jim. He grunted with effort as he lifted him back onto the bed. Though he was as gentle as possible while setting him down, the bed might have been made of solid rock for how it pressed against his ribs.

Okay, perhaps it _might_ be time to rethink his objection to the sedative. The pain killer he'd been given only minutes earlier wasn't doing much to lessen his _agony_.

So when Bones deftly administered the hypo with a sneaky flick of his wrist, Jim couldn't find the words to complain. He welcomed the sudden muscle weakness and the way his eyelids began to droop.

And when he heard the further orders to Nurse Chapel, "Put the kid in soft restraints for now. I'll put a stasis field around his injured ankle," all Jim felt was a surge of gratitude. Bones only wanted him back on his feet as quickly as possible.

No one could fault the good doctor for that.

* * *

_Author's Note 05/25/13:_

_Hey guys! SO, I haven't seen the new movie yet. Hopefully I'll see it today. Then I'll be off like a shot at the typewriter. I do miss Bones._


End file.
